but nothing under the rugs

It’s all over abandoned buildings,
Noxious autumn leaves and broken pillars
Erected centuries ago by giant shrimp,
The sky over boys and girls
Wrapped in translucent stars and stripes
On the roofs of banks, churches and cafes,
The sky full of dead hawks. It is
Indolence and temperance which is supposed to be
The only proper pair of vice and virtue for the locals.
They exchange greasy family tarot packs
For almonds and walnuts, they sing about
Ramshackle fences guarding emptiness,
Unused alphabets embroidered on their rugs,
Ice and severed heads in their freezers,
The heads of easygoing strangers.
Apart from the songs, nothing disturbs the air,
Tomatoes and raspberries are colorless,
But water is iridescent and sweet.

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20 thoughts on “but nothing under the rugs

  1. PEOPLE SPEND THEIR DAYLIGHT HOURS
    PAINTING RAMSHACKLE FENCES
    THAT PROTECT NOTHING
    GUARDING EMPTINESS
    THE LIBRARY HAS BEEN CLOSED FOR YEARS
    WORDS OUTDATED
    WORDS THAT ONCE TRUDGED WEARILY
    ONE CRUDE TRAVESTY AFTER ANOTHER
    POEMS AND CARICATURES
    CABARET-STYLE ROMANCE
    *one could smell Mick Jagger on the Matterhorn postcard

    Like

    • But after some years the fences
      Shed their paint and slither away
      Rattling with the void
      And when the library finally opens
      A born-again Aldous Huxley
      Will be the director
      Smelling the pattern of evil
      In the synoptic gospels

      Like

  2. tourist attractions fences
    that could be seen from space –

    Russian cosmonauts tell their families they will look for the fences from their capsules –

    an acorn headed woman sells tickets at the entrance and fat woman from Wyoming spent inheritance money on fences necklaces they wear around fatty jowls

    1978 Mike Jagger listed his best fences
    picket
    electric
    barbed wire
    garden

    the cult of fence
    the enemy of cows

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    • Russian cosmonauts’ greatest recent concern is crosses, icons and priests. If you take a look inside a space station, it’s barely different from a mobile church:

      Every spacecraft they launch now from Baikonur is consecrated by a bearded black-robed shithead. They have underwent a seamless transition from the Bolshevist party to the god of organized religions. Moon dwellers, Martians and even the species of Betelgeuse are going to be thoroughly proselytized and become decent members of the Russian Orthodox Church, and therefore, slaves of Putin.

      Mick Jagger, the acorn-headed woman, and the fat woman of Wyoming should fear that as well. Would their fences help them, and us, in case of the invasion? I very much hope so.

      Like

      • mobile churches flying in the thermosphere – closer to the illusion of god – holy wine floating in zero gravity as bored cosmonauts kiss and explore
        space gay
        secrets left up there

        Romanov iconography glued to the fuselage – crackly reports sent back to earth base – Rasputins ghost reported as a dark shadow on the side of the world

        the fences will keep them out and us in

        Like

        • I would surely prefer the contrary – us being out, and them in)) The situation, however, is complicated, because there are quite a few dissidents who still haven’t emigrated, some just don’t want to emigrate. There are many good musicians and writers among them.

          Like

  3. DISREPUTABLE RELATIVES WITH A DARK PAST
    FLOATING OVERHEAD, TIGHT-LIPPED
    INCESSANT AUTOBIOGRAPHY
    MISTAKES AND EXAGGERATIONS
    CRACKS FROM YOUTH
    WATERED DOWN
    PSYCHIATRIC SOUL
    ADAM AND EVE
    OUR FIRST PARENTS
    WAVE FROM OUTER SPACE
    NO LONGER PARALYZED WITH FEAR
    THEY LOVE THEIR FLYING CARPET TUBE

    Like

    • Years ago i used to talk to everyone
      How we were bound by our genotypes
      And that in order to be really free
      We should have forgotten our ancestry
      And rewritten the foulest old testament myth
      Once more, leaving adam and eve
      Shut up forever in eden, we should
      Have destroyed our DNAs
      And once a 40-year-old woman dying from cancer
      Having heard all that bullshit replied smiling
      That it was exactly what was happening to her
      And that she was so fucking free that sometimes
      Couldn’t have a shit without making a mess
      Unless one of her daughters was at home

      Like

    • No one can find silence between two angels
      Whether they shout mumble or whisper
      Even good old middle class icons
      Used to cut their ears or confess to butterflies
      Garden snakes and jellyfish
      That they were absolutely innocent
      But becoming one of them makes you deaf

      Like

  4. ATMOSPHERE AS A PRIME CREATOR OF ILLUSION
    I SAW COUNTLESS BOXES POSSIBLY EMPTY
    IN YOUR SELF-PORTRAIT
    YOU WRITE ABOUT LIFE BEING AT HIGH TIDE
    AND YOU BEING DECEIVED BY BIRDS
    RHYMING AND HALF-RHYMING
    PRONUNCIATION
    SANDWICHED BETWEEN ANGELS
    CONSECRATED BREAD ON EACH SIDE
    A TIMID LEAF OF LETTUCE
    EARS THAT FAILED YOU AT YOUR TIME OF WITNESS
    FLAMING SECRETS WENT UNHEARD
    FROM THE CHIRRUPING INSECTS
    READINGS OF THE COSMIC RIDDLE

    Like

    • I had been looking for this portrait for years
      In order to destroy it but pigeons walked in
      From the balcony and ate my ears, glasses,
      Cheese, pears, radishes, bananas, credit cards,
      Sneakers, lightbulbs, pineapples, everything,
      Even the tires of my car. As to the balcony,
      It’s still intact somewhere in Georgia, i guess.

      Like

  5. THAT PORTRAIT WAS AN EXACT PERSONIFICATION OF TIME
    YOU IN YOUR PROUD MOTIONS OF EACH DAY
    PEOPLE YOU CALL TRINKET
    OR DO PEOPLE CALL YOU, TRINKET ?
    THE PORTRAIT WAS A HUMAN CALENDAR
    STARTLING EXTREMES IN THE HUMID ZONES
    SOUTH OF THE LOWER HOURGLASS
    YOU CALLED IT YOUR SOUL
    BUT THERE IS NO SOUL
    ONLY DEGREES FROM TRUE NORTH
    ONLY DEGREES FROM RESURRECTION
    I SAW YOUR TIRES ON A PINK CLOUD

    Like

  6. PORTRAITS OF ANGEL-LIKE BEINGS
    THE COLOR OF DEEP-SEA DIVING LUNGS
    YOU’VE POSTED YOUR CONSTRUCTED BELIEFS
    HARVARD-INFLUENCED NOTIONS STUCK ON BRANCHES
    THE BIBLE STORY OF THE FLOOD HAD SERIOUS FLAWS
    HOW MANY PAPER TOWELS WOULD IT TAKE ?
    THE SPEED OF THOUGHTS
    THE BOTTOM OF SOULS
    STILL-INCOGNITO
    JOHNNY BOY

    Like

  7. ANATOMICAL FLOODS
    AND THE REAL RELIGIOUS FATHER
    LOCKS THE SOURCE IN A BEDROOM
    WITHDRAWAL INTO SOLITUDE
    “DON’T GO IN THERE”
    AND A MILLION THOUGHTS
    MY GOD, A MILLION THOUGHTS
    AND THE BLOOD FROM THE VALVE
    WHO THOUGHT UP SUCH A TERRIBLE FUNCTION ?
    CONSTANTLY IN FEAR THAT THE LUXURY OF LIFE
    MIGHT LEAK ITSELF DRY IN THE PEE-BUCKET

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  8. HOW CAN YOU NOT THINK ABOUT JESUS WHEN YOU EMPTY THE PEE-BUCKET ?
    YOU WATCH THE THICK MOTOR OIL TRAVEL THE PATH TO THE CREEK
    AT NIGHT STRANGE CREATURES SNIFF THE EVIDENCE
    DEMONS HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO LICK THE CLOTS

    Like

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